To Catch A Thief
by A Swing Set in December
Summary: A series of robberies resembling the notorious Remy Lebeau's style and the murder of jewel thief, Genevieve Darcenaux, lead the world’s top investigators in hot pursuit of the Cajun. Now to keep the Guild safe, Remy must clear his name. ROMY JONDA KETE
1. Chapter I

**Disclaimer:** The characters and events depicted in this story are fictional. Any similarity to any actual person, living or dead, or to any actual events, firms and institutions and other entities is coincidental and unintentional. All characters used are the legal property of Marvel and its constituents.

**Author's Note**: Unlike my previous X-men fic, we have mutants! Oh my! Enjoy and please review! I'd like to thank my sister, Peaches, for looking over it! The next chapter should be up relatively soon, fingers crossed but I am going home for two weeks!! Be kind, review!

* * *

**To Catch A Thief**

* * *

CHAPTER I

**Bad Moon Rising**

* * *

**BAIT**, _n. _A preparation that renders the hook more palatable. The best kind is beauty.

* * *

French Riviera, Nice, Côte d'Azur, France

* * *

The cool summer breeze from the coast offered a delighted relief to the humidity in the air to the residents of the many hotels and villas that lined the coastline. The waves crashed into the night causing the dull rocking of the boats anchored along the docks and the distant cries of the seagulls heralding the coming sunrise. It was the beginning of another lazy day with the promise of sweet relief from the weather with a coming storm.

"My jewels! I've been robbed! Someone stole my jewels!" came the shrilly cry from a penthouse suite.

"À l'aide! Police!" called another voice even louder echoing across the beach breaking the lull of the early morning sleep.

"My diamonds! They're gone! Help!" came a final yell from a neighboring villa causing the Côte d'Azur to spring to life with a flurry of activity and it was only just the beginning.

* * *

Paris, France

* * *

The sterility of the morgue was off-putting to the on-call detective as she used her handkerchief to try to block out the heavy stench of ammonia in the air even from the outside hallway. Getting called in at two in the morning was not her idea of a good start to the day. She was left waiting for the primary detective and coroner to be done with their initial exam of the deceased. From dispatch, the rumors stated homicide; she gave another shudder and tried to take her mind off it by counting the cracks in the white stucco tile beneath her. Sometimes working in the violent crimes division gave her the creeps.

"M'demoiselle?" called a the voice of the primary detective, steeling her resolve, she entered the double doors.

Looking at the corpse of the once vibrant girl, Jean-Paul winced in sympathy. The white sheets that covered both halves of the body left little to the imagination. After her body had been recovered from the spire of Notre-Dame, it had split leaving her split in two. Her internal organs barely held in. It was a shame to see another Montrealer murdered in such a way.

"Hi, ça a…ça a fessé," he declared with a wince, earning a commiserating nod from the laid-back detective who was at the scene, he supposed that he was just waiting to no longer be responsible for the evidence. The girl was found impaled on one of the highest spires of the Notre-Dame cathedral by a tourist hoping to catch a panoramic picture of the Parisian landmark at night.

The doors swung open to reveal the posh figure of a female detective, clearly she wasn't used to being among the dead. _This is going to be a long night._

* * *

A bright flare caused her eyes to widen at one of the men wearing the traditional hospital scrubs and stark white lab jackets. _A mutant._She shook her head slightly to reorient herself to listen to what the primary was saying and ignore the urge to stare openly at his aura. It wasn't her place to out him in public it would only draw attention to herself. She didn't need that this early in the morning, not with the chaos over the Mutant Registration Act going over across the Atlantic with those damned Americans. They both were looking at her expectantly. Steeling her resolve she opened the dossier she was holding.

"Genevieve Darcenaux, 26 ans. Partenaire depuis peu chez Cartier," she began, ignoring the raised eyebrow of the coroner. "Célébataire, pas d'enfant, trios condos: un à Boca Raton et deux à Nice," she finished. "Aucun lien connu avec la mafia. A été impliquée dans un affaire lié au vol d'un diamant, il y a lieu quelques ans, mais jamais détenue par la police. Elle conduit un Volvo. Voulez-vous savoir autre chose?" she finished looking at the primary.

"Ouais, est-elle vierge?" he said mockingly. Causing the coroner to grin. _Urg__, men._Seeming to remind himself of his lack of manners, he gestured in between herself and the coroner. "Monet, Jean-Paul; JP, Monet St. Croix, détective au préfet," introduced the primary, the coroner held out his hand in greeting, looking at it in horror, he gave her a funny look. Looking down, his hand was still covered in a latex glove, now with the addition of Darceneaux's blood.

Clearing her throat, she gave a small smile, "Enchanté."

"Salut," he replied pulling back his hand with a shrug clearly not seeing the problem.

"Je sais qu'à première vue, comme ça, elle a l'air d'un comptable rigide, mais fie-toi pas aux apparences, elle est pas comptable," the primary grinned with a vague nod to her. She inwardly bristled.

"D'accord," replied Jean-Paul with smirk.

"Êtes-vous en mesure d'évaluer…" she started trying to get this over with.

"À quelle hauteur elle est tombée?" the coroner interrupted, speaking very fast causing her to stare. "Ça dépend de la vitesse de l'hélicoptère," he assured with a grin.

"Wô, wô, wô, qui a parlé d'hélicoptère?" asked the primary. Monet never met someone with that much energy in the earlier morning, it was unsettling.

"Attends un peu," said Jean-Paul sarcastically, "je pense c'est moi là, moi j'ai en parler. Ça peut pas être un avion, un avion c'est trop vite, elle aurait coupée en deux sans votre aide." A pointed look was given to the primary, who reddened slightly, apparently despite being impaled on one of the spires of Notre-Dame, the victim was only torn into two upon removal. Monet had a new respect for the coroner despite her inability to follow his quick monologue. "Un parachute qui a pas ouvert, elle l'aurait encore sur le dos. Personne se pitche en bas d'un deltaplane. C'est bien trop compliqué avec les straps puis tout," he stated miming out the actions of removing a parachute, Monet snickered despite the glare that the primary gave her. "Tu dois être bien determinée. Le festival des montgolfières est pas commencé, puis si c'est une cigogne, elle a poignée du trafic en hostie car elle est 26 ans en retard. D'après moi, hélicoptère."

Monet shared a look with the other detective, trying to absorb the information he gave in such a short time. She noticed that he was leaving out the other possibility, the helicopter theory was plausible but so was the involvement of a mutant. It was the elephant in the room that haunted her at every turn, a dirty secret that was never spoken out loud. _He knew. _She could understand his hesitance, even in Europe the idea of mutants was still the stuff of comic books. Not even taking a breath, Jean-Paul continued with his differential tearing her away from her musings.

"Mais, pour répondre à la question initiale," he said crossing his arms." Au plus haut, 80 mètres. Mais c'est pas un calcul exact. Un corps inerte en chute libre fait 30 mètres à la seconde, ok?" Pointing to the body, he declared, "selon les dégâts, ça, c'est minimum 25 mètres. Maximum 80. J'ai le feeling que ça peut pas être 60 mètres. Parce qu'à 30 mètres à seconde, ça veut dire que sa chute aurait été d'exactement 2 secondes. C'est un chiffre trop rond, je le sens pas, ça se peut pas. Il y a rien de si précis dans la vie. Afin d'après moi, 80 mètres."

His math was correct, from what she could follow. Noticing an evidence bag, Monet peered closer to the body trying not to gag at the smell. "Et ça, qu'est-ce que c'est?"

"Ça, c'est…comment tu dis ça, un jeux de cartes," Jean-Paul replied holding the plastic bag, a burnt playing card. "La reine des cœurs, spécial, hein? Mais c'est pas tout…" he trailed off, showing Darcenaux's arm, where it appeared that the card was burned into her arm.

"Pourquoi il y a du sang?" asked Monet, looking at part of the burn, it looked fresh.

"S'elle tombé de 200 pieds, ça a breaké sec en hostie," commented the other detective. "Mais de tout façon, une brûlure, JP, ça peut prendre une dizaine de jour à cicatriser?"

"Mais c'est bien plus frais que ça. Quelques heures à peine. Elle a pas commencée à cicatriser pantoute," said Jean-Paul. "Pantutti for you," he grinned at Monet, she just blinked at him owlishly.

"Mais pourquoi..." asked the primary detective.

"…cette partie du brûlure saigne pas? C'est weird, hen?" Jean-Paul said gesturing to the part of her arm that seemed only pinkened by the severity of the burn.

"La fille peut…" started the primary only to be interrupted by the coroner.

"La fille peut avoir brûlée son bras y a deux mois et finir aujourd'hui, métons?" Jean-Paul asked but interrupted the primary's answer with a buzz sound. "Mauvaise réponse! Droit de réplique de la charmante détective."

Monet tried to think of another answer but before she could open her mouth, Jean-Paul cut in.

"Trop long! C'est plus fucké que ça, c'est l'inverse. Le bout qui saigne a été fait en premier avant qu'elle meure. La partie qui saigne pas a été faite après qu'elle meurte. Ça se voit à cause de la pigmentation du peau. Fait qu'elle était morte avant la chute. C'est pas la chute qui l'a tuée," he said gesturing to the burn mark. "Et c'est là que j'en arrive avec ça," he picked up Darcenaux,s head to show her matted hair and a fatal skull fracture. "La coagulation sanguine de cette blessure-là correspond à celle du brûluuure," he said drawing out the word. "Les blessures de la chute sont plus récentes. Les patterns sont pas les mêmes."

"Ok, fait qu'elle était morte avant de tomber?" asked the primary, Monet rolled her eyes, even she understood that from the coroner's verbal diarrha. "D'abord, pourquoi la brûlure? Une signature?"

"Mais pourquoi la reine des coeurs?" Monet mused.

"Je peux te donner mille de raisons," declared the primary with assurance.

"Une seule suffira," declared Monet hating his grandiose attitude.

Leaning closer to her, like he had some grande secret, he murmured, "Le Diable Blanc."

Monet's eyes widened. JP looked confused. And the other detective picked up the evidence bag, waving the card in her face.

"Merci, JP," he said.

"Pas de trouble. S'il y a du neuf, je t'appelle," Jean-Paul said, looking at little bewildered at tension that was now in the room. Monet grabbed the evidence bag from the primary making her responsible for the evidence and left the morgue with a nod to the coroner who gave a weak grin.

"Merde." She was going to have to make a call to Europol field office. _Why did she have to die in Paris?_ It was going to be a long day. She sighed fingering the bloodied playing card in the plastic evidence bag. A Queen of Hearts.

* * *

Washington, DC, USA

* * *

There was one thing that Robert Drake dreaded, even more than the nagging itch of the lobbyists for Senator Kelly's vendetta against mutants. That sinking feeling that you get when you know that sooner or later your number is up and there isn't anyway you can weasel out of it. He was currently having a stare down with his cell phone and probably weirding out the new probie agent that was debating whether to cross his path to get to the coffee machine.

Usually Bobby loved his job; he got paid to stop the bad guys. It was enough to get him a girl every night at the bars that he frequented with his fellow agents. In this case, the AD assigned him the job of scheduling an emergency meeting of their unit due to as of four hours ago a national security risk. Bobby forgot what color he was supposed to use now. Blue? Fuchsia? Orange?

He wasn't worried about the powder keg that the Bureau was sitting on, no, he was worried if Special Agent Marie D'Ancanto was going to drain him dry as soon as she found out that after five long years, her first vacation since graduating at Quantico would be cut-short. They'd be lucky to find his body. Sighing he hit number three on his speed dial.

"Hey Roguey, have you seen the paper?" And he waited for the other shoe to drop.

* * *

London, England

* * *

Boredom was something Pete Wisdom avoided much in the same way he did with commitment. He couldn't even be bothered with getting a plant ever since he killed Romany's on the one occasion she asked him to flat-sit. His fingers itched towards his ciggs that were beneath a pile of paperwork from his last bust. Smoking was prohibited in the department since Scicluna filled a complaint about the smell. _Bloody stuck-up bint, _he thought darkly. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he debated whether to sneak out for a fag before tackling his paperwork. He was in-between cases and was caught in the fallout of six months worth of backlogged performance reviews and expense reports.

"Oi! Wisdom!" called Johanssen approaching him with a thick dossier. _Bloody hell, not more!_

"Wot?" he replied irritably.

"Fancy a trip 'cross the pond?" she grinned dangling the folder marked TOP SECRET.

Things were looking up.

* * *

The Hague, Netherlands

* * *

Rushing down the halls, Agent Jamie Maddox tried not to trip as he vainly rushed down the corridor. Slamming into the double doors he bounced back harshly causing to multiples to form. Wincing he rubbed his shoulder and glanced around. No one else was on the concourse, giving a breath of relief he tried the door again, the door was locked. Leaving his multiples in the hallway he detoured around and ran towards the far entrance to the conference hall. Slowing to a quick walk he tried the door and it clicked open, he could hear that the presentation had already begun. Vainly brushing the sweat from his brow, he straightened his tie and entered the room.

Front and center was one of Europol's finest agents and recently made detective, Wanda Maximoff presenting on behalf of her division. He cringed at interrupting but he was the only agent from their division left to man the phones in the office. He seriously contemplated sending a dupe but even they had more self-preservation.

"Master thieves who practice the long con live separate lives as civilians. They have legitimate jobs and families which make them extremely difficult to catch," stated Detective Maximoff holding the entire room enraptured. Maddox made his way towards the podium slowly.

"The greatest thieves of all time are without question the members of the illustrious Thieves' Guild," Detective Maximoff continued, hearing a couple of snickers across the room about hearsay.

"Skepticism aside for this urban myth of an entire syndicate working below the radar of every law enforcement agency, it's leader the Diable Blanc, who's aliases include Robert Lord, though we may never know for certain because he was never captured or photographed despite his activity over the last fifteen years to drop suddenly off the map. Though he left behind a slew of imitators, our division is focusing on the one worth mentioning, the thief we know only as Pyro," she bit out, her eyes flashing.

"So named for the signature Zippo lighters he leaves behind to taunt us as well as the significant property damage due to arson. Pyro must be considered our number-one priority. His string of high-profile crimes are an embarrassment to our branch, to our entire profession. We need more than traditional resources to pursue criminals like Pyro. We need to train ourselves to think the way they think, to see what they see. And we should not allow ourselves to be distracted…" declared passionately until her eyebrow twitched to agent Maddox who had shuffled close enough to her to clear his throat.

If looks could kill, there would be one less Europol agent in the world. Leaning his mouth next to her ear, he hastily whispered, "Sorry, but the Diable Blanc has returned."

"What?!" shrieked Detective Maximoff causing the overhead lights to flicker and burst with electricity.

* * *

Fort Meade, Maryland, USA

* * *

Ruby tinted sunglasses glinted the glare from the overhead florescent lighting of the drab office. A few female agents sighed at the passing of the famous Scott Summers. He had a perfect case record, the rumors boasted. First in his graduating class at West Point and had broken most of the long-standing records in marksmanship. He was the perfect agent. Moving up in the ranks since his first major case of ending the infamous heists of the Diable Blanc.

He approached the case board with a firm jaw. With a deft hand, he erased an already closed case, written in the standard black marker. Some fellow agents leaned over their cubicles at the odd behavior; usually the board was only cleared with the changing of directors with a staff party. Grabbing a red marker with ferocity, he rewrote the case number. When done, he stormed out of the main room causing the door to slam. Some older agents snickered. Looks like Summers' perfect record hit a snag.

* * *

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA

* * *

"Hostie de merde de tabarnak."

* * *

**BOUNDARY, **_n. _In political geography, an imaginary line between two nations, separating the imaginary rights of one from the imaginary rights of the other.

* * *

**To be continued…**

* * *

**Chapter Track**: _Bad Moon Rising_ - Creedence Clearwater Revival (Green River)

* * *

**Questions I Would Like To Answer Before You Ask or Get The Pitchforks & Villagers:**

* * *

**_French Lexicon:_**

"À l'aide! Police!"

_- Help! Police!_

"M'demoiselle?"

_- Miss?_

"Hi, ça a…ça a fessé."

_- That had to hurt._

"26 ans. Partenaire depuis peu chez Cartier."

_- 26 years old. Recently partner at Cartier._

"Célébataire, pas d'enfant, trios condos: un à Boca Raton et deux à Nice."

- _Single, no kids. Three condos : one in Bocca and two in Nice._

"Aucun lien connu avec la mafia. A été impliquée dans un affaire lié au vol d'un diamant, il y a lieu quelques ans, mais jamais détenue par la police. Elle conduit un Volvo. Voulez-vous savoir autre chose?"

_- No known mob links. Was implicated in an affair linked to the theft of a diamond a couple of years ago, was never convicted. She drives a Volvo. Do you want to know anything else?_

"Ouais, est-elle vierge?"

_- Yeah, is she a virgin?_

"Détective au préfet."

_- Detective at the prefecture._

"Enchanté."

_- Nice to meet you._

"Salut."

_- Hi._

"Je sais qu'à première vue, comme ça, elle a l'air d'un comptable rigide, mais fie-toi pas aux apparences, elle est pas comptable,"

_- I know at first glance, like this, she looks like a rigid accountant, but don't let appearances fool ya, she's not an accountant._

"D'accord."

_- Gotcha._

"Êtes-vous en mesure d'évaluer…"

_- Are you trying to find out…_

"À quelle hauteur elle est tombée?"

_- At what height she fell?_

"Ça dépend de la vitesse de l'hélicoptère,"

_- It depends on the speed of the helicopter._

"Wô, wô, wô, qui a parlé d'hélicoptère?"

_- Wo, wo, wo, who said anything about a helicopter?_

"Attends un peu."

_- Wait a minute._

"Je pense c'est moi là, moi j'ai en parler. Ça peut pas être un avion, un avion c'est trop vite, elle aurait coupée en deux sans votre aide."

_- I think it was me, I was talking about it. It can't be an airplane, an airplane is too fast, she would have been cut in two without your help._

"Un parachute qui a pas ouvert, elle l'aurait encore sur le dos. Personne se pitche en bas d'un deltaplane. C'est bien trop compliqué avec les straps puis tout."

_- An unopened parachute, she would have still had it on her back. No one throws themselves of a handgilder. It's way too complicated, with the straps and everything._

"Tu dois être bien determinée. Le festival des montgolfières est pas commencé, puis si c'est une cigogne, elle a poignée du trafic en hostie car elle est 26 ans en retard. D'après moi, hélicoptère."

_- You need to be very determined. The air-balloon festival hasn't started, and if it was a stork, it was stuck in some serious fuckin' traffic because it's 26 years too late. In my opinion, helicopter._

"Mais, pour répondre à la question initiale."

_- But, to answer your initial question._

"Au plus haut, 80 mètres. Mais c'est pas un calcul exact. Un corps inerte en chute libre fait 30 mètres à la seconde, ok?"

_- At the very highest, 80 meters. But this isn't an exact calculation. An inert body in free fall does 30 meters a second, ok?_

"Selon les dégâts, ça, c'est minimum 25 mètres. Maximum 80. J'ai le feeling que ça peut pas être 60 mètres. Parce qu'à 30 mètres à seconde, ça veut dire que sa chute aurait été d'exactement 2 secondes. C'est un chiffre trop rond, je le sens pas, ça se peut pas. Il y a rien de si précis dans la vie. Afin d'après moi, 80 mètres."

_- From the mess, here, it's a minimum of 25 meters. Maximum 80. I have a feeling that it can't be 60 meters. Because at 30 meters a second, it means that her fall was exactly 2 seconds. It's a number too round, I don't feel it, it can't be. There is nothing that precise in life. In my opinion, 80 meters._

"Et ça, qu'est-ce que c'est?"

_- And this, what is this ?_

"Ça, c'est…comment tu dis ça, un jeux de cartes."

_- That, it's…how do you say, a playing card._

"La reine des cœurs, spécial, hein? Mais c'est pas tout…"

_- The queen of heats, special, hey? But that isn't all…_

"Pourquoi il y a du sang?"

_- But why is there blood?_

"S'elle tombé de 200 pieds, ça a breaké sec en hostie."

_- Well if she fell 200 feet, there has to be fuckin' blood._

"Mais de tout façon, une brûlure, JP, ça peut prendre une dizaine de jour à cicatriser?"

_- But anyway, a burn, JP, it can take about 10 days to scar?_

"Mais c'est bien plus frais que ça. Quelques heures à peine. Elle a pas commencée à cicatriser pantoute."

_- But this way too fresh for that. A couple of hours at least. It hasn't started to scar at all._

"Mais pourquoi..."

_- But why…_

"…cette partie du brûlure saigne pas? C'est weird, hen?"

_- …this part of the burn isn't bleeding? It's weird, right ?_

"La fille peut…"

_- The girl coulda…_

"La fille peut avoir brûlée son bras y a deux mois et finir aujourd'hui, métons?"

_- The girl could have burned her arm two months ago and again today, you say?_

"Mauvaise réponse! Droit de réplique de la charmante détective."

_- Wrong! Charming detective with the save._

"Trop long! C'est plus fucké que ça, c'est l'inverse. Le bout qui saigne a été fait en premier avant qu'elle meure. La partie qui saigne pas a été faite après qu'elle meurte. Ça se voit à cause de la pigmentation du peau. Fait qu'elle était morte avant la chute. C'est pas la chute qui l'a tuée."

_- Too long! It's more fucked up than that, it's the inverse. The part that's bleeding was made first, before she died. The part that isn't bleeding was done after she died. You can tell by the pigmentation of the skin. So she was dead before the fall. It's not the fall that killed her._

"Et c'est là que j'en arrive avec ça."

_- And it's here, that I found this._

"La coagulation sanguine de cette blessure-là correspond à celle du brûluuure."

_- The blood coagulation of this injury here corresponds to that of the buuuuuurn._

"Les blessures de la chute sont plus récentes. Les patterns sont pas les mêmes."

_- The injuries resulting from the fall are more recent. The patterns aren't the same._

"Ok, fait qu'elle était morte avant de tomber?"

_- Ok, so she was dead before the fall?_

"D'abord, pourquoi la brûlure? Une signature?"

_- Then why the burn ? A signature ?_

"Mais pourquoi la reine des coeurs?"

_- But why the Queen of Hearts ?_

"Je peux te donner mille de raisons."

_- I can give you a 1000 reasons._

"Une seule suffira."

_- One will do._

"Le Diable Blanc."

_- The White Devil._

"Merci."

_- Thanks._

"Pas de trouble. S'il y a du neuf, je t'appelle.,"

_- No problem. If there's anything new, I'll call you._

"Merde."

_- Shit._

"Hostie de merde de tabarnak."

_- Mother fuckin' shit._

**_Rogue's Name:_**

In X-Men (2000) film, Rogue was credited as having the name Marie D'Ancanto which to this point she had no last name unless adopting Mystique's surname depending on which canon-verse. I never liked that idea, partly because I never really liked the surnames Mystique used. She still goes by Rogue to her friends and such.

**_Joual_****_:_**

Joual is the common name for the linguistic features of Québecois French. It is similar to Créole in some respects but is very unique to Québec. The usage of profanities is an outstanding characteristic of joual and as is using alterations of English words. Since Jean-Paul is from Montréal, it would make sense that he can speak joual. People from France have significant problems understanding joual because it isn't proper French. In his monologue of delivering his diagnostic, Monet understands only half of it, because part of it is delivered in joual. If you are curious about joual, visit www.tetesaclaques.tv which is by far the best examples of joual and Québec culture I've seen.

**_Real-life Agencies:_**

_Europol (European Police Office)_ - the European Union's criminal intelligence agency.

_NSA (National Security Agency)_ - cryptology intelligence agency of the United States government.

_FBI (Federal Bureau of Investigation)_ - investigative arm of the United States Department of Justice (DOJ) serving as both a federal criminal investigative body and a domestic intelligence agency.

_MI6 _(Secret Intelligence Service (SIS)) - the United Kingdom's external intelligence agency.

**_Locations:_**

_Paris__, France - _the actual location where Genevieve Darcenaux was murdered in the canon-verse.

_Washington__, DC, USA_ - the main headquarters of the FBI.

_London__, England_ - the main headquarters of MI6.

_The Hague__, Netherlands_ - the main headquarters of Europol.

_Fort Meade__, Maryland, USA_ - the main headquarters of the NSA.

_New Orleans__, Louisiana, USA -_ the residence of the Lebeau homestead in the canon-verse.

**_Canon Character Cameos:_**

_Jean-Paul Beaubier_ - a Canadian mutant and member of the X-Men from Montréal, Québec. His mutant powers a superhuman speed, flight, durability and light manipulation. JP is a relatively common nickname especially with those pesky double first names that are popular in Québec as well as in France.

_Monet St. Croix_ - a French speaking mutant and member of the X-Factor Investigations and X-Corps: Paris. Her mutant powers are superhuman strength, speed, agility, supersonic flight, telepathy, identify mutant auras and a healing factor.

_Genevieve Darcenaux_ - a young jewel thief who had a romantic relationship with Remy Lebeau before her demise. Her death is canon.

_Jamie Maddox_ - a mutant and member of the X-men. His mutant power is self-duplication.

_Constance Johanssen_ - a member of F.66 and a previous team member with Pete Wisdom.

_Michelle Scicluna_ - a member of Black Air and a previous team member with Pete Wisdom.

_Romany Wisdom_ - Pete Wisdom's older sister.

**_Fictional Agencies:_**

_Black Air_ - former governmental intelligence department found and operating primarily within the United Kingdom initially as an adjunct to the Ministry of Defense mandated to investigate and research the supernatural and paranormal phenomena.

_F.66: Department of Unusual Deaths_ - the British Metropolitan Police branch specializing in unusual death.

* * *

**To my loyal reviewers:**

* * *

**melissarxy1** – Thanks !

**Lucia de'Medici** – Hope you like the first chapter, Remy action in the next chapter!

**ShadowFax999** – CIA Rogue would be kick-ass but I have a soft spot for the FBI and they actually have an Art Crimes Division, how cool is that? And Europol does exist! I haven't the skill to make up an agency…I wish though…Pete is going to be James Bondy if James Bond chainsmoked and swore like a sailor…lol

**gambit-rogue** – Thanks for the support!

**emotionalcrack** – Tada! Sorry for the long wait!

And to those who put me on author alert: **Goldylokz**, **Kai3anime**, **Queen of Egypt180**, **Rogue181**, **Rogue87** and **sjmcday**!

Much thanks! Hope you'll enjoy the read!

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**Author's Note: **Sorry about the delay, I wanted it to be awesome. I'm currently on work term in Alberta of all places, this Québec girl is out of her element. Please read & review! Suggestions are appreciative. Next chapter will have the FBI scrambling and Europol fuming. And Remy seeing an old "friend".

I hope you enjoyed my first action/suspense/mystery attempt, I am way better at writing pointless dialogue and the actual flushing out is awkward at times, I have multiple Word documents on my laptop that are just random conversations I envision people having, and I think, gee, if this was in a story it would be awesome. If only my brain and my hands were better coordinated.

Be aware if I make any mistakes to locations, and people are like, it so isn't like that there, I have been to Europe but was only England bound. As for the States, the furthest I've has been NYC. My basis for the NSA and the FBI are from avid watching of the X-Files and Bones. Same goes for MI6 and Europol but with every action/thriller ever made.

Enjoy! Allez-y mes amis! Écrit moi un mot de confiance! SVP! Your reviews fuel my passion to write more!

Read & Review!

- Swing


	2. Chapter II

**Disclaimer:** The characters and events depicted in this story are fictional. Any similarity to any actual person, living or dead, or to any actual events, firms and institutions and other entities is coincidental and unintentional. All characters used are the legal property of Marvel and its constituents.

* * *

**To Catch A Thief**

* * *

CHAPTER II

**It's A Disaster**

* * *

**MACHINATION**, _n._ The method employed by one's opponents in baffling one's open and honorable efforts to do the right thing.

* * *

**Caldecott County, Mississippi, USA**

* * *

The cicadas buzzed idly allowing Rogue's mind to drift. It was the first time in five years where she wasn't completely covered. She was enjoying the serenity of being the only person in four miles, no risk of accidentally touching anyone. Her bare fingers brushed the wild grass as she lounged in the hammock Irene had in the backyard between two cypress trees. The faint rush of the river could be heard and brought a smile to her face, it had been too long.

She let her mind wander, and even the mounting psyches in her head had the good grace to give her some space. Here, she could just be Marie. Not a dirty mutant the media portrayed. Her secret was well hidden; a skin condition and a low white blood count could get her out of the standard dress code. It helped that she used to be somewhat gothic in her style back in high school.

"Marie!" called a voice, distorted by the distance. It called again, getting nearer. Thanks to a run in with a gruff stranger in the airport, his imprint fresh, she could easily make out Irene from four miles away. The cell phone she was waving in her right hand caused Rogue to groan.

_It had barely been two days…ah am gonna kill Bobby… _

* * *

**New Orleans, Louisiana, USA**

* * *

"M'sieur Lebeau?" inquired a New Orleans vice detective as he entered the large mansion when Tante Mattie opened the door and eased past her followed by two plainclothes officers.

"Un instant, s'il vous plait, messieurs," she murmured, clearly miffed by their lack of manners when entering another's home. She left them in the drawing room and made her way to Jean-Luc's old study.

It was dark inside, the blinds barely opened, casting an eerie shadow over the room. Newspapers from every country were strewn everywhere, all with the same derivative of a headline. Remy had his feet on the desk as his chair was balanced on the back legs. His eyes were closed, if not for the playing card flickering between his fingertips, it would appear that he was sleeping.

"Remy?" she called. "Childe, there be men wantin' words wit' yo'."

"How many?" he sighed, cracking an eyes open, causing his red iris to flare in the darkened room.

"Trois," she replied. "Emil an' Theoren are out fo' de day. De rest are at de safe house."

"Bien, Remy wouldn't want t' keep officers of de law waitin'," he smirked with a crooked grin. Tante Mattie had the sense to just sigh and not bother to stop him.

He left her in the study and slipped on his ever present sunglasses back on upon leaving the sanctuary of the darkened study. Entering the drawing room, he was met with the stiff postures of two police officers trying to be nonchalant about fingering their side arms and one detective who had made himself comfortable in Henri's favorite chair.

"Lepic, Mercier et Huard. Monsieur Lebeau, we represent de NOPD," said the sitting detective in a calm manner flipping open his badge. "We are makin' inquiries in reference t' some jewel robberies."

Remy casually looked over each man in the room before leaning against the mantle of the fireplace, noting every escape point. "We believe yo' could provide us wit' information dat would be helpful."

"And what led yo' to dat?" Remy asked, his body language betraying nothing.

Standing, the detective smiled mysteriously. "Would yo' be good enough t' accompany us t' de police station?" The two standing officers shifted towards him.

"Let Remy get his coat, messieurs?" he posed it as a question, daring the detective to say something. With a nod, the two officers shuffled out to get the patrol car.

"We'll be waitin' outside," said the detective as he left the room. A car distantly was being started. Remy rubbed his temples in frustration. He left the drawing room, bypassing the study.

"What are yo' going ta do, childe?" murmured Tante Marie from the study's entrance.

Not stopping his gait, he grabbed his trench coat and shrugged it on.

"Remy has t' go see 'bout a girl. Tell Henri he's in charge till Remy gets back." And with that he exited the house using the backdoor and his form was lost in the brushes of the bayou.

Moments later, the angry shouts of the police could be heard. Mattie picked up the phone to call Henri, looks like the New Orleans police knew more than they let on.

* * *

**Bruges, Belgium**

* * *

St. John wasn't one for theatrics, well not outside his job. In his spare time, he dabbled in writing and enjoyed the finer things that at one time were the stuff of pipedreams on his grandfather's farm in Queensland. He was even brushing up on his German, though his accent was horrid, but this quaint tourist trap was the place to disappear and hang low despite being bored out of his bleedin' mind. He hadn't found a suitable prize to claim.

_Things have gotten boring since Remy left the game._ He thought idly flicking his lighter.

He was bored, there was no challenge. Maybe it was time to change venue, he hadn't been to the States in awhile. Europol seemed to be tightening their leash. But he always liked a good chase.

_Well, maybe one more for old times' sake. _

* * *

**London, England**

* * *

Wanda disliked chaos; she was a firm believer in order. She always had a plan and a focused objective. If she was stressed she would clean her flat to the point she'd have to open all the windows to get rid of the stench of pine oil. If she delved deeper this need for structure probably stemmed from early childhood if she actually read any of that psychology crap that her flatmate had placed strategically around their flat.

She would do away with the idea of a roommate but she was rarely home that the last time she was there she almost blew the electrical system upon discovering her room painted fuchsia. It eventual grew on her after she grew tired of her roommate being magnetized.

If you asked her two days ago what her plan was, she would have said it was to catch the infamous Pyro, the self-proclaimed scourge of Europe. Now at shy of two in the morning, it was to find and incarcerate Le Diable Blanc before the Americans or the bloody English got their hands on him first. So she was here, in Heathrow, waiting for a plane to the States that had been delayed for the plan six hours.

It didn't help that they sent Maddox, the twitchy probie with her who flinched whenever she looked at him. Not to mention she swore on her mother's grave that she wouldn't step foot in the States ever again.

She hated breaking promises, especially to her mother who she had only vague memories of soft lullabies and warm sunshine. It was what got her here today and if pending no more delays, get her to the States since some imbecile in Paris had already flown the body to Washington.

All she had was burnt playing card, her connections got her that much. If she didn't know any better she would have said it was Pyro but fanatical arsonist he may be, a murderer he wasn't. Just a harbinger of chaos. She could control chaos.

"Flight 1080 to Washington, DC, now boarding," came over the terminal's speakers.

A devilish smile overtook her face, one way or another, she'd get the Diable Blanc.

* * *

**Washington, DC, USA**

* * *

The halls were abuzz. Field agents were being pulled back and reassigned in a flurry of movement that made Bobby glad he had a crappy office in the basement. The body was in customs waiting to be push through, the FBI had first dibs, well if the NSA didn't pull their usual shit.

The phone in his office had been ringing off the hook that he just unplugged it, most were from international offices expressing their disapproval with the handling of the whole Diable Blanc affair.

Interpol, MI-6 and his all-time favorite so far, Europol, being sworn at in German was never on his bucket list, especially after having to call Rogue. She was due on the next train from Mississippi.

_Seriously, who takes the train? _

He just got the five inch dossier and it was the first of seven, and he was already being criticized. This was worst than the recovery of the artwork from Afghanistan warlords. At least there was no paperwork for him to do. That's why him and Rogue made a good team, she lived for the stuff.

_Well, she at least didn't mind doing mine. _

The assistant-director already told him that to promote international relations, the FBI were collaborating with foreign offices.

_Joy. _

He hoped Rogue got there in time before all hell broke loose. She was never known to be Miss Congeniality.

* * *

**New Orleans, Louisiana, USA**

* * *

The cool summer breeze wafted in through the large bay windows in the sitting room that at one time were filled with laughter and happy memories. She was alone with her thoughts, a bad idea in the first place but it gave her time to reflect on the carefully constructed house of cards that was her life. The house was old enough to creek in the right places, which was handy in her family. She didn't need to turn around to know she wasn't alone. The smell of old leather, cigarettes and bourbon suffocated her despite the airy room.

"'dey came for me," was her only greeting. Turning in the wicker chair she met the red-on-black eyes of the infamous Remy Lebeau, it took all of her resolve not to flinch at their hard stare.

"Hmmm, after all dis time, yo' don't even say hello," she murmured nonchalantly. "Tante Mattie must be scandalized at your lack o' manners," she said in an acid manner. "Why do yo' only come see meh when you're in trouble with de police?"

Her pouting lips were once a thing of fascination to him, in a different time he would have moved heaven and earth for her dimpled smile. The breeze did nothing to sway the tension in the room.

"'ree of dem. At de house," he bit out, his temper barely under control. The energy between his fingers hummed in anticipation.

"Really? Now ah _am_ disappointed," she said lounging back, knowing she could do just as much damage with her pinky than him. "Not even two cars? Seems a bit small fo' someone lahke you."

"Ah'm de main suspect!" he said raising his voice, trying to shake her out of her indifference.

The lack of the third person wasn't lost on her. It caused a twitch of a smile across her face. "Naturally you're innocent."

"Remy hasn't stolen jewelry in years," he said, frustrated with the conversation, pacing the span of the room, Bella's eyes never left his form, eyeing him like a cat would a mouse.

"Honesty!" she laughed bitterly.

"It has a good feelin'," he said with a glare as if daring her to pass judgment when her hands were equally dirty.

"Ah find dat hard ta believe," she glared getting up from her seat and moving towards the far wall where a cooling pitcher of iced tea was perched. Remy watched her movement with a calculated look.

"'dey knew," he remarked as she poured her drink.

"Knew what?" she feigned turned towards him with an arched brow. He paused, his eyes widening as if he refused to believe her betrayal despite seeking her out. Resignedly, he shook his head.

"Why Belle?"

Slamming her drink on the table she met his gaze. "Ah'm a killer. Ah'm a murdering bitch, yo' know dat," she began, holding her hand up when it looked like he was going to interrupt. Her eyes became cold and the room felt stifling and he was even more aware he was in a room with an assassin. "An' dere _are_ consequences ta breakin' de heart of a murdering bitch."

He seemed to accept her reply, with a sad smile. "Why did yo' wait dis long?"

"Oh, ah'm sorry, ah should have called. Ah mean, dat's how yo' do all your dirty deeds," she glared up at him.

"Ah'm sorry. For all de stupid t'ings ah done as pup...all de lies and de betrayal to me an'my own. Ah'll always be sorry...Belle…Ah'm so-" he started placing his hand on her shoulder. Flinching, she shook him off.

"Don't even start with sayin' sorry. We are well past dat point," she declared moving away from him, his scent was choking her. "Ah hope dey crucify yo'."

He didn't know what to say, he didn't understand after all they had been through how she could have done that. He paused for a long moment before finally asking, "What do yo' want?"

"Isn't dat de million dollah question?" she mocked, leaning back on the large oak desk. "What do ah want, Remy?" she asked punctuating each word.

There were a lot of things he didn't know about this whole shitty fucked up situation. He hadn't had a chance to breathe since Tessa called him from Paris. He had a millon different questions and didn't know if he'd even get the whole truth from her. He didn't know if he wanted to know. He was getting the sinking feeling of finally understanding what she had felt when he betrayed her in his own way. She always liked being dramatic.

"You want meh dead? Kill meh an' end it," he said, knowing she could kill him with barely breaking a sweat. "Don't drag my family into dis."

Scoffing, she bit back a laugh. "How noble! Yo' didn't t'ink it would be _that_ easy, did yo'?"

He smirked, the same that used to make her weak at the knees. "Yo' know, for a second dere … yeah, ah kinda did."

Crossing her arms, she sniffed disdainfully at him and inspected her manicure. "Yo' know it would suit me just fine to see the entire guild burn."

Humor gone from his eyes, he barely contained his anger. "Ah didn't think you would be this sadistic in your revenge."

Somewhat hurt by his words, she pondered on what he said. "Do yo' find meh sadistic?" Shaking her head, as if remembering why this game had been set in motion, she locked eyes with him.

"No, Remy, ah'd like ta believe you're aware enough, even now, ta know dere's nothing sadistic in my actions … maybe towards dose other bastards, but not you."

Staring up at him, she realized that he was barely an arm's length away. Toying with the lapels of his trench coat, she softened her eyes and he felt the melancholy of childhood butterflies that were murdered by reality.

"No, Remy, dis moment, dis is me at my most … masochistic."

Losing himself in her eyes, a brief reprieve from reality, he tilted her chin towards him. "dis is how it ends? After all we've been through?"

He knew at one time he was her world and when they broke up it fell apart. He just wished she had told him. He still didn't know if it would have made any difference. At least he was starting to see things more from her side but he needed to convince her to focus her anger on him, only.

Looking up at him she gave him a cruel smile. "No, dis is how it begins and ah plan ta have a front row seat," she said, laughing at his stare.

_Did yo' dink yo' could charm meh, chérie? _

"Yo' should have thought o' what would happen, you've been lucky fo' too long."

Remy froze and shook his head, whatever feelings they once had were gone and Bella was doing a through job getting rid of the rest. "And Darcenaux?"

"How sweet, Remy. Yo' thought dat was my handiwork?" she simpered, her dimples showing in a cold smile.

"Though she did have it comin'. Yo' nevah got de concept o' outsourcin'," she admonished. "Ta be fair, dere were a lot of people scramblin' for de job. Ah only had ta give dem a little push."

"Who?" Remy said, his voice hoarse, turning on her once again and stalking towards her.

Smirking, she looked at him like the cat who at the canary smile, the one she reserved for her job, the one that Remy tried to block out when he used to kiss her. "Now if ah told yo' it would end de game before it begins. And dere are some big players who want ta see de Diable Blanc burn just as much as meh."

His right eye twitched and his faced hardened. "Why should ah have all de fun?" she smirked.

"Are yo' insane?!" he yelled, causing her to flinch, Remy never yelled, it was too common. He restrained the urge to shake her. "dis goes against de treaty!"

A grim smile settled on Bella's face, crossing her arms she glared at him. "It's mercy, compassion an' forgiveness ah lack. Not rationality. We're divorced, chérie. Yo' signed de papers, remember? dere is no treaty," she declared with authority. "An' when fortune smiles on somethin' as violent an' ugly as revenge, it seems proof lahke no other dat, not only does God exist, you're doin' his will."

A faint sound of sirens growing closer could be heard. The blood drained from Remy's face. She was just toying with him all along.

With smug satisfaction, she smiled her first genuine smile, one that reached her eyes. "Julien sends his regards."

Stepping away from her, he glared, shifting his eyes as the sirens got closer to the house. "dis isn't over," he said firmly.

"Oh, ah doubt that," she retorted but he slipped out of the room at easily as he came in.

Calling after him with glee, "but Remy, who is goin' ta help yo'? You're runnin' out of time."

His rushing footsteps were lost under her laughter.

* * *

**RETRIBUTION**, _n._ A rain of fire-and-brimstone that falls alike upon the just and such of the unjust as have not procured shelter by evicting them.

* * *

**To be continued…**

* * *

**Chapter Track**: _It's A Disaster_ - OK Go (Oh No)

* * *

**Supplementary Information**

* * *

_**French Lexicon:**_

"M'sieur/Monsieur."

_Mister._

"Messieurs."

_Misters._

"Un instant, s'il vous plait, messieurs. "

_A moment, if it pleases you, sirs._

"Fille."

_Girl._

"Trois."

_Three._

"Diable Blanc."

_White Devil._

"Chérie."

_Darling, sweetheart or sweetie._

_**Locations:**_

_Caldecott County, Mississippi, USA - _canon-verse fictional location of Rogue's childhood home with Irene Adler.

_Bruges, Belgium_ - a beautiful city with most of its medieval architecture still remaining and a prominent world heritage site. Most speak Dutch and French. City was chosen after seeing the film "In Bruges" where it was dubbed as being the perfect place to go to disappear. And enough art and culture to offer any thief some eye candy but I picture St. John being as bored with it as Colin Farrell's character in the movie.

_**Canon Character Cameos:**_

_Irene Adler_ _(Destiny) _- guardian to Rogue during her formative years and a mutant with precognitive abilities.

_Mattie Baptiste_ - nurse-maid to Remy LeBeau growing up and involved with the Thieves Guild but has an otherwise neutral stance on the feud between the Thieves and Assassins. She has spiritual abilities such as healing and telepathic contact with those near death.

_Henri Lebeau_ - Remy Lebeau's foster older brother and member of the Thieves Guild.

_Mercy Lebeau_ - Remy Lebeau's sister-in-law, married to Henri Lebeau and member of the Thieves Guild.

_Jean-Luc Lebeau_ - Remy Lebeau's foster father, deceased and previous Thieves Guild patriarch.

_Emil Lapin_ - foster cousin and childhood friend of Remy Lebeau and member of the Thieves' Guild. He is the electronics expert for the Thieves' Guild.

_Theoren Marceaux_ - foster cousin and member of the Thieves Guild. Theoren is a technical genius with specialties in computers and computer theft.

_Tessa Hartley (Sage)_ - a mutant with the capability of remembering huge amounts of information and retrieving them like a computer. In canon, she is not a member of the Thieves Guild but was a member of the X-Men.

_Julien Boudreaux_ - brother to Bella Donna Boudreaux and a member of the Assassins' Guild.

_Bella Donna Boudreaux_ - leader of the Assassins' Guild, previously married to Remy Lebeau.

* * *

**To my kindhearted reviewers:**

* * *

**Keeper of Artifacts – **I did? Awesome! I am trying to make it as canon as possible, well in the sense that all the characters are Marvel based. Not bad for a gal who didn't read the comics.

**lovestoread – **Yeah, I hope I didn't alienate people with the massive French section, it's my second language but the grammar is always tricky. The translations were the easy part out of it. I knew when I started the scene in Paris I needed it to be in French, I kept imagining it like a movie were there would be subtitles…I hope it worked, lol. Thanks for your support! It is actually my first stab at action and mystery, it looks so good in my head…I just need to get it out on paper.

**Chica De Los Ojos Café** – You get a gold star! Yep, Remy needs to watch his language or Tante Mattie will really give him something to swear about. I am so glad you read it! My main worry was scarin' people off with the French, but I would never make someone translate it themselves, I find it really annoyin' when I read fanfiction myself especially if the grammar is horrible to begin with…so I am anal…yeah, probably why it took forever for me to post the first chapter. My sister is my beta and I guess the worst because she it far too nice and says everything is perfect, even when there are typos! :D

**Goldylokz **– The infamous site strikes again! It decimated the format and then I lost my internet connection, I am so up North right now you have to do a rain dance for the wireless to work. I hope you liked the chapters!

**allyg1990** – I love Relient K! A chapter track is in the near future with one of their songs, actually this chapter was almost called "Which to bury, us or the hatch?" but it only really made sense with one scene and Ok Go is awesome too. Bobby is actually my easiest character to write for this story, I have loads of upcoming scenes with him but I am like…wait…this story isn't about him…I'm makin' him a comedic relief 'cause comic-verse Bobby always was.

* * *

Let the games begin. Or as they say on the Big Easy, laissez les bons temps roulez!

Your reviews fuel my passion to write more!

Read & Review! - Swing


	3. Chapter III

**Disclaimer**: The characters and events depicted in this story are fictional. Any similarity to any actual person, living or dead, or to any actual events, firms and institutions and other entities is coincidental and unintentional. All characters used are the legal property of Marvel and its constituents.

* * *

**To Catch A Thief**

* * *

**CHAPTER III**

On My Way

* * *

**ALONE**, _adj_. In bad company.

* * *

**New Orleans, Louisiana, USA**

* * *

The safe house wasn't as extravagant as the mansion but it still held its own charm. Remy was usually greeted with a warm welcome from even the more stoic members but upon arrival it took his standing as Guild leader to not get the door slammed in his face. Even Emil was giving him the cold-shoulder. Upon entering the study, he met the eyes of his brother.

"They think ah'm responsible for dese robberies, don't dey?" he asked gesturing to the congregated assembly of thieves making themselves comfortable in the sunroom while making little effort to hid their scrutiny from the bay windows looking in to the study.

"You are de leader and they're famille. We're de first ta be suspected. Some o' dem went t' prison on your behalf on more dan one occasion. De guild has always enforced loyalty," remarked Henri.

"If dey catch meh, dey'll do mo' dan throw away de key. Remy came to tell dem and yo' that he had nothin' to do with de robberies," Remy said in frustration.

"Ah believe you, but de guild dinks you let dem down, mon brave" Henri said candidly.

"Remy wouldn't put it past dem ta be doin' de robberies themselves," muttered Remy thinking of some of the less loyal members of the Guild that didn't agree to his succession after Jean-Luc's death.

"Ah doubt dat, dere is still honor among thieves, après tout," Henri said trying to placate his brother. A mutiny wasn't something he considered since his father's funeral. "Coincidences can be terrible. Dese robberies all bear your mark but yo' claim ta be innocent."

"Ah do more dan claim. Ah am!" Remy said pacing the room, slipping into first person, his brother raised his eyebrow, studying his brother's movements across the room. "Ah can't understand how dis thief can imitate meh so perfectly. It's someone who knew my technique, maybe somebody in de police. He picks perfect victims and de right mark. Goes up walls, over roofs, leaves no clue and disappears in de night."

"Just like de Diable Blanc," Henri said blankly.

"Yo' don't believe meh!" shouted Remy in disbelief.

"Yo' misunderstand, frere, ah do believe yo'," Henri said with a level stare. "But dis all seems too perfect. Dis is more than you or ah." Henri leaned back in his chair looking at his brother. "De imitations are one din', but the murder of dat fille an' now dey come ta de house. Too many coincidences," he sighed frowning. "Did yo' talk t' Belle?" Henri asked with a grimace, saying her name left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"She was de first person ah went ta see. She said ah had it comin'."

Henri sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Ah didn't dink she had de patience fo' somethin' dis through. In an instant she destroyed you."

"She didn't do it. She just showed dem how. They know everythin'…" Remy trailed off looking out the far window.

"They?" Henri asked. "Who else did you piss off?"

"She didn't say. It would ruin her fun," Remy said with sarcasm.

"You always had a soft spot for de crazy femmes," Henri chuckled darkly.

"How was ah supposed to know she would go dis far?"

"She's a femme," Henri said like it explained everything. Rolling his eyes, Remy looked out the window, eyes taking in the bayou. It was an amicable silence that filled the room.

"If somebody caught dis imitator, we'd all be off de hook," declared Remy after some time.

"Oui," agreed Henri slowly, trying to find out where his brother's head was at.

"The police are chasin' de wron' man," Remy started. "Someone's got to chase de right one."

"One day he'll make a mistake," stated Henri. "De police only know that you are implicated in dis affair. You'll just have to lay low," he suggested not liking where his brother was going. "You still know how ta lay low, non?"

"Dere's only one answer. Ah've got to catch dis imitator myself," Remy said with conviction.

"You couldn't do more than de police," said Henri looking at his brother.

"But ah could, an' ah'm de only one who could, because ah can anticipate him, figure out his next move an' catch him wit his hand in de jewel case," Remy said, his excitement growing at the possibility of killing two birds with one fell swoop.

"Nobody will believe what yo' say," said Henri thinking of the Guild and the NOPD. "The Diable Blanc is wanted not only in Nawlins."

"Who believes meh now?" Remy said sarcastically.

"Then ah suggest yo' find someone who will," Henri said dryly. Remy quirked his left eyebrow. "Other than meh, of course."

* * *

**Baton Rouge, Louisiana, USA**

* * *

The drive to Baton Rouge wasn't the most favorable. Theoren was driving and it was decided that they would attract less attention if Remy was in the trunk. So he spent over an hour and a half stuck in the back of his cousin's '67 Impala with the spare tire as company. He bet that Theoren made it his primary objective to hit every pot hole from New Orleans to Baton Rouge.

Emil gave him a brotherly hug before they left him in an alley within walking distance of the train station with Theoren hitting the gas as soon as Emil got back in the car. Tessa already signaled that his passport was flagged so flying was out of the question. Tightening his trench coat closer to his body, he made his way to the station. He didn't seem overly conspicuous with his sunglasses but the overcast day didn't help with blending in with the crowd of tourists and commuters.

It had barely been an hour since leaving the safe house; he hoped that the NOPD hadn't had a chance to contact the BRPD. Standing in line, he lost himself to the crowd. Seeing that the teller was a girl younger than himself, he smirked. He'd have no trouble getting his ticket and be out of Louisiana before the ending of the day.

It wasn't until he made his way to the teller that she was relieved of her post but a shrewd man. Putting on his best smile, he asked for a one-way ticket to Washington. Blinking owlishly at him, the teller typed up his request.

Squinting behind the cash, Remy saw his picture. Not the best, clearly Belle had kept some of the less flattering ones after the divorce. He pushed up his sunglasses up further on his nose.

"Some'ing wrong wit' your eyes?" asked the teller suspiciously catching his gaze.

"Oui, dey be sensitive t' questions," he said briskly as he handed him cash for his ticket.

Affronted, the teller glared at him. Remy was usually a patient man but it had already be a long 48-hours. Getting the ticket he made a hasty retreat. The teller turned back and looked at the notice board. Eyes widening, he turned to find the next customer waiting. Grabbing the phone, he called his supervisor. Apparently Remy Lebeau was going to Washington.

* * *

**Jackson, Mississippi, USA**

* * *

Rogue was tired. Mostly irritated at leaving what was supposed to be a two week vacation of lazing around the Mississippi bayou. She had to drive from Irene's to Jackson to board a train bound to Washington. She couldn't fly since she imprinted the Bureau's panophobic before she left for her vacation, he was still rattling in her mind annoyingly.

It didn't help that the train had been delayed in Baton Rouge. Apparently the NOPD had their panties in a twist over a primary suspect jumping state lines. Stowing her baggage in her cabin she made her way to the dinning car. She needed a drink, badly.

* * *

**Meridian, Mississippi, USA**

* * *

Changing his clothes in one of the unoccupied cabins as the train started to move again after picking up passengers in Jackson, Remy decided it was safe enough to move around and find a better place to hide other than the storage lockers. He even put in the contacts Mercy gave him last Christmas to make his eyes a dull brown. Not even Belle knew about those.

Entering the service car, he tried to find an easy mark to give him a good cover. Most were family's with two or more children or rowdy guys around Emil's age who would attract more attention than he needed.

At the far end of the car was a woman who seemed to create a impenetrable perimeter by her sheer presence. The booth she was sitting in was empty save for her, despite the overcrowding. It seemed that most unconsciously steered out of her way.

Grinning for the first time since leaving Louisiana, Remy made his way over. On closer observation, she was pretty. Not the bombshell beauty that Belladonna seemed to exude but a more classic beauty. She was unnaturally pale for someone from the South. Her hair was contained with a clip causing her bangs to fall over her face shielding her eyes. It was a rich auburn highlighted oddly with a white fringe which on anyone else would be tacky but it seemed to suit her.

Despite the heat, she was completely covered giving her a china doll-like appearance as her rich maroon blouse ended, a pair of vintage opera gloves fell seamlessly with covering her skin. It intrigued him more than it should. She looked pure for lack of a less clichéd word. She was seamless perfection and completely concealed, a nice distraction from the chaos that had erupted in his life. He shouldn't have been committing himself too much to a girl who would be a cover for the next fifteen hours or so. If it was any other time he would have lingered on her more than a day. He didn't have time to be distracted.

Gracefully, he slid in the bench across from her. It was a burn to his ego that she didn't look up from the stack of papers that she was reading. Clearing his throat, she looked up. His eyes met her vivid green. For an instant he was drawn in. He could see her, but not inside her. He usually could with his mutation but there was an eerie sense of nothingness. Almost peaceful, like a cool glass of water. She blinked, breaking eye contact, arching her brow as if asking him to get out with it so she could continue with her reading.

"You recommend anythin', chérè?" he asked in what Mercy said was his most charming grin.

Snorting, like she was privy to a private joke, she looked back at her papers effectively shutting him down. A steward passed by and he instinctively turned towards the window. Sighing she stacked her papers and wrapped them with an elastic band from her wrist. Giving him her full attention she looked him over with scrutiny.

"Ah know. Ah look vaguely familiar," he said gesturing to his face to try to make a joke.

Unimpressed, she just looked at him. "Yes."

"You feel you've seen me somewhere before," he continued staring deeply into her eyes, that she couldn't turn away, giving her a half-lidded look which would have had a more hypnotizing quality if he didn't have his contacts in.

"Ah have dat effect on people. It's something about my face." He oozed enough of his powers to draw her in. She blinked again. His focus seemed to waver and the lull he was working over her was waning.

"It's a nahce face," she conceded.

Remy was not struck speechless often; his power had no effect on her. The exact expression of surprise and confusion on his face was priceless. She didn't seem to take any stock in it.

"Yo' dink so, chérie?" he asked, thinking of another route to use her.

"Ah wouldn't say it if ah didn't," she said before getting up with her ridiculous pile of papers. "Ah wouldn't order any dessert if ah were you."

Smirking, he saw his plan coming to fruition. "Ah get the message," he said ready to follow her.

"That isn't what ah meant," she grinned, and Remy felt his stomach drop. Her smile was a bit disarming.

"This train seems ta be makin' an unscheduled stop, and ah just saw two men get out o' a police car as we pulled inta the station. They weren't smilin'."

And with that, she left. With a muttered oath, he followed as the train slowed to a stop.

* * *

Rogue barely held in her snort of laughter. She really shouldn't really get that much of a kick of toying with someone. Usually Bobby was the one that allowed her to diffuse her inner bitchiness but that guy had been so much fun.

She recognized him from the start. Her friend in Baton Rouge police force texted her about some state jumper wanted for questioning in New Orleans. The whole thing screamed of cloak and dagger cover-up that was notorious for the New Orleans police.

This Remy Lebeau seemed harmless, delusions of grandeur maybe, but harmless. She had seen her fair share of criminals. Before working in Washington, she worked in the Violent Crimes division in Chicago. It was enough to be able to read someone without her powers. She had enough of her past cases rattling around in her head.

Sighing she settled in her bunk. Glad that she got Bobby to book her first class to Washington. She mused that he was trying to stay on her good side. Closing her eyes, she tried to focus on tranquility, a void where she could ignore the voices.

The cabin door slid open and the infamous Remy Lebeau shuffled in hast.

Irritated, she looked up to meet his dull brown eyes which made him seem off in an odd way.

"You've got some nerve," she growled, sitting up, chucking a worn paperback at his head. He ducked at the right moment at it hit the cabin door with a thud.

"M'excuse, chérie, there are some extenuating circumstances…" he started.

"Extenuating circumstances? Some fancy words fo' a swamp rat," she replied pulling off the glove of her right hand and flexing it.

"Hum, dat so? Bien, that's sayin' somethin' from a river rat, non?" he said with a smirk.

Lunging for him, she was held at arms length, her fingers barely touching his face.

"Ah, chérè, none of dat. We only just met," he laughed over her frustrated indignation. "Patience is a virtue, chérè," he said in a patronizing tone, not letting her out of his strong grip.

"So is breathin'," she glared. "And ah am not your chérè."

"Come on den, introduce yahself," he said avoiding her right knee as she tried to hit his groin. "Ah, none of dat chérè we only just met."

"Ah already know who yah are," she bit out as tired to head butt him, but he pushed her towards the wall, pinning her there with barely any breathing room between them as he straddled her between his legs to prevent her from getting any other ideas.

"Den you have meh at a disadvantage, non?" he smirked, struggling to keep her pinned as she bucked against him. "Don't yo' dink it's time we were introduced chérie?.

Her face flushed and her eyes livid, she glared at him.

"You're Remy Lebeau of New Orleans, Louisiana an' you're wanted for questionin' by the NOPD," she bit out with venom.

"And now you know everythin'," he grinned. "And your name, river rat?"

"Rogue," she hissed out.

"Unusual name fo' a belle femme," he replied with an appraising eye.

"So is holdin' a gal against her will," she retorted squirming against him.

"Remy wouldn't say it was so bad, if you keep strugglin' he would dink you were enjoyin' yourself," he remarked as his hips pushed into hers to stop her from attempting to knee him again.

"Don't worry, Remy won't say a word," he said in a stage whisper against her right side of her face that caused an involuntary shiver to course through her body.

She let out a frustrated sigh, "You're delusional as well as a pervert."

"Don't be so modest, chérè."

Rolling her eyes, she tried to get out of his embrace again. "Let meh go!" She snapped, wiggling in his arms.

Remy gasped, fingers abruptly digging into the tender flesh of her waist over her fitted blouse. "Don't start somethin' you can't finish chérè."

"Ouch! Creep!" She gasped back, in pain. Rogue bucked again, trying to get free.

Remy's fingers slid quickly around to her back and jerked her closer to stop her movements.

"What did Remy just tell yo'?" he murmured at her, their breaths mingling in the small gap between their faces.

Rogue gasped as her ribs where crushed to his chest, wedged between his sinewy body and the hard cabin wall. She was suddenly terribly aware of the man she was crushed to-along every little inch of his body.

In fact, they were breathing in unison.

"What are yo' doin'?" she gritted out, staring into his eyes. "Let meh go, swamp rat!"

She was tempted to try head butting him again and deal with him rattling in her head for the rest of the ride.

There was a knock at the door followed by a muffled voice calling out, "Police! Cabin search, please open your door."

Their eyes never wavered from each other.

"Look here," he growled at her, lowering his forehead until it was millimeters from hers.

His warm breath wafted over her face as he continued to talk. "You're gonna be de demure southern belle, Remy knows dat yo' are an' keep still or bear de consequences."

"Excuse meh, swamp rat?" She growled back. He was the most infuriating person.

_And what did he mean exactly by 'bear the consequences'? _

The police were just outside the door, all it would take was one scream.

"Miss? Are you there?" called the voice.

"All ah have to do is scream," she said, straining to be free of his tight grip. She was crushed up against him. "Let meh go, now!"

"Stop strugglin'," He gritted at her, tensing.

"Ah don't lahke gettin' pushed in any direction," she glared, her eyes flaring. "Got it?"

"Point taken. Now here's mine, let meh stay, or ah blow dis car off de tracks," he said, removing his left hand from her arm and up against the cabin wall close to her head, causing it to glow a pale pink, the energy pulsing beneath his hand.

"You're a mutant?" she said in disbelief.

"Ah am so gonna kill Bobby…" she gritted out closing her eyes in frustration.

If Remy was rather put out by her lack of fear towards his display, he didn't show it.

"So we got a deal?" he asked, snapping her out of her thoughts as the knocking got louder.

She glared at him, touching him now was not an option anymore, a mutant rattling in her head would cause more trouble than it was worth, especially with his powers.

"Yah're just crazy enough ta do it," she said bitterly, wishing for once she was normal.

"We do what we have to, rahght chérie?" he smirked his grip loosening and the wall turned back to its dull grey colour.

Shoving him to the side, she made her way to the cabin door, putting her glove back on. Remy ducked into the lower bunk and out of sight of the door.

The steward called to her, again. She opened it enough to the questioning face of a police officer.

"Is there a problem, sugah?" she asked in her most congenial tone. The New Orleans cop looked like he was on his last nerve.

"Your name, please?" asked the steward beside the officer.

"Marie D'Ancanto," she replied showing her badge. "Is anythin' wrong?"

"There was a man at your table tonight in the dining car…" started the steward.

"Yes?" she asked, tilting her head, in what she assumed was an inquiring fashion.

"Friend of yours?" the steward continued.

"Ah nevah saw him before in mah life," she said.

"Is this the man?" he asked as the police officer shoved a wrinkled fax at her.

"On cherche un monsieur Lebeau," the police officer said holding the grainy picture before the steward could translate.

"Je l'ai vu desendre sur le quai il y a quelques minutes," she responded as she studied the picture carefully.

Swearing, he started yelling in French with a few swear words thrown in. The steward gave muted apologies for disturbing her while the police officer had already made his way to the exit.

With a sigh, she closed the door.

"Yo' speak French?" he said, surprised, sprawled out on the lower bunk.

"Pas vraiment, j'ai un petit gadget installé dans mon cerveau et je vois des sous-titres sous les personnes quand elles parlent," she glared sarcastically crossing her arms.

"Chérè…" he started his eyes belaying an apology.

"Don't. Ah just did the wrong thing for the rahght reasons," she said climbing to the top bunk, she needed to regroup.

"So, what now?"

"Ah'm goin' ta sleep. Ah don't care what you do," she growled and turned inwards in the bunk.

"Sure, y' don't, chérè" he smirked. It was going to be a long ride.

* * *

**New York City, New York, USA**

* * *

Jamie Maddox would consider himself a sane person. Relatively speaking for someone who could make multiples of himself at a drop of a hat. Working with Wanda Maximoff was by far the most insane thing he had every done. Not that he had a choice but there was a reason people at work called her the Scarlet Witch and it had nothing to do with last year's Halloween party.

Staring at the headline of the London Sun, he wished that he never went into law enforcement.

"PYRO STRIKES AGAIN IN A BLAZE IN BELFAST."

The headline itself was going to be a knife in Maximoff's back. She previously mentioned that Belfast would be a prime mark for the arsonist.

If the Diable Blanc was top priority on her list, Pyro came a close second. Looking back at Maximoff who was glaring at the departures screen, he hastily put the paper back and bought the gum that he was sent to get.

Walking back, he stood next to her.

"So when are we flying out?' he managed to blurt out, trying to feign nonchalance.

"In an hour," she replied with a frown. The screens flickered and the timings changed again. "Make that twenty."

"Oh," Jamie said lamely as he looked at the screen owlishly, he could have sworn that their flight was delayed for four hours the last time he checked. Things always seemed to line up for Wanda Maximoff in an uncanny way. If it wasn't so creepy he would have been impressed.

"Any interesting developments?' she asked with a bored drawl, her eyes still locked on the screen.

"Nope, nada, nothing new," Jamie said in an awkward slew of words.

Wanda merely raised her right eyebrow and turned her head at him.

"We need to work on that lying of yours," she said. "Even my brother lies better than you, and he's an idiot."

"I'm not lying!" he said vehemently. She just glared at him. He could feel the sweat bead up on his forehead. "Just being tactful…"

Her gaze shifted to a man reading the London Sun, the glaring headline seemed bolder to Jamie than at the newsstand. The overhead lights seemed to surge with power and flickered ominously. Stalking over to the hapless newspaper, she tore it away from the owner.

"Oi! Bloody hell!" yelled the man standing up and glaring at Wanda for pilfering his paper. Not even looking at him, she stuck out her hand and held him back as she read the paper with her other hand.

The man seemed shocked that she even stuck her hand on his person.

"You daft bint…" the other man began before Jamie rushed over to begin damage control.

"Just let her have it," said Jamie pulling the man back from his superior. Taking a five dollar bill from his wallet, he put it in his hand. "Keep the change."

"Now wait a bloody…" the man began but was interrupted by a shriek of rage. The lights did more than flicker as the terminal border went crazy as departure and arrival times went berserk. Then the entire airport went black.

"I think we're not going to make that flight after all…" mumbled Jamie as he could hear Wanda shredding up the paper in fury as the offended Brit tried to tear it from her iron grip. It was going to be one of those days.

* * *

**Washington, DC, USA**

* * *

Seated in the waiting room of his supervisor was never a good thing, especially when he was part of the FBI's most unwanted. It was never a good sign.

"Agent Drake," called Jubilee Lee with a bored look. "Assistant Director Xavier will see you now."

Wincing, he looked at the looming door.

"Are you sure?" he asked tugging his tie.

Rolling her eyes, she resumed looking at her magazine.

"Yeah, ok, sure," he said. "Wish me luck."

He looked at her as she popped her ever present bubblegum. "Or not," he said sarcastically.

* * *

**Aldergrove, County Antrim, Northern Ireland **

* * *

The airport was a buzz of activity, people giving tearful goodbyes and disgruntled businessmen amid the chaos. Whistling an off-key tune, St. John Allerdyce strolled up to an otherwise unoccupied teller.

"One ticket to the States, luv," he smirked.

"Any particular location?" asked the service agent sarcastically.

"The earliest one leavin'," he replied with an idle flick with his lighter in his right hand, looking around the airport, eyes falling on the security guards at the far end.

"There's one ta Newark, in two hours," she replied checking the computer.

"That's in New Jersey, rahght?" he asked leaning over the counter to look at the screen. Swatting him back to the other side she glared at him in distain.

"Yes, sir," she said rolling her eyes.

"Perfect," he said pulling out a wad of notes. "Cash is alrahght, yeah?"

* * *

**INCOMPOSSIBLE**, adj. Unable to exist if something else exists.

* * *

To be continued…

* * *

**Chapter Track**: On My Way – Billy Boy on Poison (Sweet Mess - EP)

* * *

**Supplementary Information**

* * *

**French Lexicon:**

"Famille."

_Family._

"Mon brave."

_My friend._ (direct translation: My brave)

"Après tout."

_After all._

"Femme."

_Woman._

"Chérè."

_Dear, darling, sweetheart, etc._

"Chérie."

_Darling, sweetheart or sweetie. _(more informal than "Chére.")

"Non."

_No._

"Belle."

_Pretty._

"Bien."

_Well. (in this context, literal translation: Good.)_

"On cherche un monsieur Lebeau."

_We're looking for a Mr. Lebeau._

"Je l'ai vu desendre sur le quai il y a quelques minutes,"

_I saw him get off on the platform a couple of minutes ago._

"Pas vraiment, j'ai un petit gadget installé dans mon cerveau et je vois des sous-titres sous les personnes quand elles parlent. "

_Not really, I had a small gadget installed in my brain and I see subtitles under people when they speak._

**Train Ride from Baton Rouge to Washington:**

I have no idea if there is a passenger train from Baton Rouge going through Jackson and Meridian all the way to Washington. There could be. For the sake of this story there is. Train travel isn't what it was like back in the day so I made it as realistic as possible, like the dinning card is not glamorous or appetizing in any way. Well at least that was my experience when I took the train from Montreal to New York. Yeah, that was 12 hours I wish I could get back. They could have flown but it is way easier to jump of a train than a plane. Also, in canon, Rogue and Remy do have a history with trains, see Cajun Spice.

**Locations:**

_Baton Rouge, Louisiana, USA_ – State capital of Louisiana and it is an hour and a half drive from New Orleans, according to Google maps. City was chosen for the possibility that it would have a train station and because Remy in the trunk of a '67 Chevy Impala amused me.

_Meridian, Mississippi, USA_ – Basically a shout out to X-Men (2000) film where Rogue started out, it is a real town unlike Caldecott County.

_Aldergrove, County Antrim, Northern Ireland_- A small village 6 miles from Antrim and 18 miles from Belfast. Aldergrove is more commonly used to describe the major airfield to the north east of the village, the Belfast International Airport. According to Wikipedia, Newark, New Jersey, USA is one of the few direct transatlantic flights to the states without connections in London, England.

**Canon Character Cameos:**

_Jubilation Lee (Jubilee)_ - a mutant with power to generate "fireworks" of explosive plasma. She is a member of the X-Men.

* * *

**To my kindhearted reviewers**:

_**Rogue181**_ – Oh things will be heating up, that's for sure, and not just because St. John is going State side. Thanks for the support!

_**tfobmv18 **_–Oh Belle will get hers. Everyone is itching to be the one to get Le Diable Blanc and not all of them are as noble as Scott Summers. Yay! You guessed Sabertooth!Thanks for your review!

_**Keeper of Artifacts**_ – Really? The devil is in the details as you would say. I always thought that Belle was the type to not take things lying down; I mean a failed marriage would never sit well for her. Plus, she knows all of Remy's dirty secrets. I don't think she knows the magnitude of what she has done but she is a fascinating character to write. Remy has a lot of enemies…continue reading to find out who wants him desperate and on the run.

_**lovestoread **_– Oh when everything collides it will be an interesting day indeed. I personally love Bobby, well comic-verse Bobby 'cause he has that comic-relief worked in. The movie-verse Bobby had too much angst in his pants and was flighty with his feelings. Plus, with Rogue, they have the ultimate god cop, bad cop combo. St. John, like me, would probably be bored in Bruges, I am the type to see, oh pretty building, that's nice, what are we doing now? This really bugs my sister. But Bruges would be the last place Europol would look, well maybe Wanda would 'cause she knows so much about the infamous Pyro. I love St. John, also too much angst in his pants in the movie-verse. I mean where was the Australian accent?! I am easily swoonable for an accent. We had an Australian playing a Canadian, a Canadian playing an American and an American supposedly playing an Australian. Urg. Hope you like the update!

_**Agent Malkere**_ – Belle is a necessary evil, just be glad Remy and her don't like each other. He's a free agent right now.

_**Chica De Los Ojos Café**_ – Well, she is an assassin. I mean, from her perspective, he totally had it coming. Remy would never make an elaborate plan to ruin her, 'cause she's a belle femme, and no matter what, Tante Mattie taught him manners. That's why Rogue needs to enter the picture. Thanks so much for your support.

_**ShadowFax999**_ – I know I forced everyone to scroll but I was unsure about where to put the translations. A lexicon worked. Ooops…caught me, haven't seen Kitty at all. She will turn up in the next chapter. I have big plans for her. We need her tech savvy skills. Yeah, Europol exists, fairly recent. I'm Canadian so I am as lost with all these agencies. I mean, we have one, CSIS, while the US has one for everything. Slightly jealous on that point. Good catch with the imprinting but was it Logan or …? The key is why would they also be at an airport. I am so glad you enjoyed the chapter.

_**ishandahalf **_– It will be a caper indeed! Me and my sister always talked about a Rogue and Remy fanfiction that had it all with limited angst because we were always like, why can't they be happy?? So my sister basically stared to say things like…shouldn't you be working on that novel?? Hmmm??

_**allyg1990**_ – KETE is overlooked. Like in every media adaptation. It's weird since Pete is like the main guy for Kitty in the comic-verse unless you count Piotr, and even that is only briefly mentioned. Kitty will appear in the next chapter and Pete had a cameo in this chapter, can you spot him? Yeah, Bobby will get bitch slapped in the future. By who? Now that is a tough question. He has to deal with Wanda too!

_**Goldylokz**_ – It's getting colder up here…maybe that will improve the internet's efficiency? Hmm…I am supposedly studying engineering, I should know these things. Sadly I know useless trivia. Did you here that Gambit will be in the Wolverine movie? :O I find that weird 'cause when doing X-Men they said he wasn't there because they said his character resembled Wolverine's and it would confuse movie-goers. Sadly Rogue won't be there. :( At least in this caper, they will be together. Not right away, because in all honesty, when has Rogue and Remy's relationship been anything but easy?

Your reviews fuel my passion to write more!

Read & Review! - Swing

* * *

**Next chapter**: With A Little Help From My Friends – The Beatles (Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band)

**Stay tuned!**


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